Anomalies
by Ajorkable
Summary: 6 incidents that probably never happened at 1334 Beechwood... SLASH SLASH SLASH SLASH SLLLLAAAAASSSSSSHHHHH!
1. Quarrel

They had been arguing for nearly twenty minutes now, with no sign of it ending anytime soon. Their roommates had been driven from the house by the force of it; to any but the two doing the fighting, it seemed to be just a round of petty bickering that didn't involve anyone else. Also, by dint of its repetitiveness, the argument had lost all of its entertainment value.

"I'm doing what's in the best interests of this group!" Mike, in his calm, collected fashion, attempted to use reasoning on his bandmate.

"But you haven't any right to make decisions that concern any of us without our input!" David's customary charm and charisma were put aside in favor of a scrappy, street-smart variety of righteous irritation. It might have been easy to assume that the young Brit didn't care about anything but chasing girls and having a good time, if one didn't know him well. Thus, it might have been easy to underestimate his capacity for trying to right a perceived wrong (not to mention his will and ability to kick serious butt).

"I know what it is we're up against, and I know what needs to be done. By the time I'd have sat everyone down and had a meeting, who knows what mighta gone down?" The Texan stuck to his guns, but anyone who knew him would have expected that.

David, though nearly a foot shorter than the man he was locked in this fracas with, had no trepidation about stepping into Mike's space. He glared up at him defiantly and quietly intoned, "You may think you know everything, but trust me, Michael, you don't."

Mike, feeling a mix of anger at David's upstart ways and guilt because David made a good point, mustered every ounce of self-control he had (in order to not knock his adversary across the room). In an attempt to gain control of the situation (geez, when had Davy become so testy?) he stepped forward, locking into a staring contest with the smaller man.

"Now, look here, shotgun, it's already a done deal, and if you don't like it," Mike growled defensively, "then you know where to find the door."

Everything that followed happened so quickly that Mike could only react without the luxury of strategy. David lost his temper and flew at Mike, who reacted by pinning his arms down and shoving him against a living room wall, holding him there with all the strength he could muster. It was at some point, when David struggled violently against Mike (and thus caused him to further tighten his grip), that they found themselves kissing each other angrily and desperately.

This carried on for a few minutes. The anger dissipated; their embrace became passionate and tentatively curious. Mike let his hands slip through David's soft, satiny hair; David stroked the side of Mike's face with one hand while playing with his tie with the other.

The kiss finally broke of its own accord, leaving its participants sneaking awkward glances at each other. David finally started to retreat to his and Peter's shared room. He turned back to Mike, his face creased with worry.

"Mike?"

Mike looked across the room at him. "Yeah?"

"We're okay, then?"

Mike, quietly overcome with sympathy for the boy, shot him a weak smile.

"Yeah, we're okay." He paused, while David stared at him expectantly. "Look, man, I'm sorry."

David smiled ruefully. "I shouldn't have lost me temper with you like that."

They left it at that, at least for the time being.


	2. Mike's Garage

Mike was roused from his sleep by the sound of Micky stumbling through their shared room in the dark. Irritated, he turned the light on to see Micky smile at him sheepishly.

"You know, it woulda been less intrusive of ya to actually turn the light on so you could see what you were doin', Mike groused. He glanced at the alarm clock on his bedside table and saw that it was past 2 am. "Well, all I can say is that as late as it is, I hope you had fun."

Micky smiled almost beatifically at Mike. "It was crazy, man. You really missed out! Why didn't you come with me like I asked you to?" He sat on his bed and started pulling off his sneakers.

Mike lay back on the bed and sighed, crossing his arms behind his head. "Mick, man, I keep tellin' ya that clubs just aren't my scene."

Micky rummaged through a drawer for some clean pajamas, rolling his eyes as he did so. "Well, you know what? I'm starting to think that nothing is your scene if it doesn't have anything to do with a really fast, powerful car, my friend." He started toward the bedroom door, but instead sat on Mike's bed, looking down on him. "What we need to do," he continued with a wily grin, "is make a nightclub that you'd really dig."

Mike chuckled in spite of himself. "How do you propose we do that?"

"Well, we'd find an old gas station or garage, and we'd overhaul it- paint it all funky and stuff. We'd decorate with gas station signs and black lights and car parts and-"

Mike got into the rhythm of Micky's oddball diatribe pretty quickly. "Ooh, we could put aluminum foil on the walls and- oh, man, those bubble lights that go on Christmas trees- I'm surprise nobody's ever used those to decorate with!"

Micky's smile became more demented; it was a real treat to see Mike let loose like this. "We'd need guns. Big guns. You know how you Southern boys feel 'bout yawl's firearms," Micky drawled.

Mike began to shake with laughter. "Well, geez, Mick, why don't we just hang up a big ol' Confederate flag and a map of Texas while we're at it?"

"A black light reactive map of Texas," Micky snorted, almost falling off the bed. "Just think, Mike, a slice of redneck hippie heaven right in the middle of Malibu."

Just then a strange notion took both of them, and they were relaxed enough to not jolt off the bed and away from each other. Instead, the La-LaLand freak job and the uptight son of the South found themselves locked into a passionate and slightly controversial embrace. It was a delightfully long, slow kiss that made Micky get tired of leaning down; he stretched out on the bed with Mike as they made brief forays into each others territory.

Later, as Micky was in the bathroom getting ready for bed, Mike thought over their conversation. Though it was made in jest, it wasn't a half-bad idea. Of course, it would be hard to find the capital for such a venture, but then again, it would mean a permanent gig. He scribbled some figures and details on a notepad by his bed, then lay back down and waited for Micky to return.

As he made his way to his bed, Micky turned to Mike and said, offhandedly, "We'd call it Mike's Garage, and it would be the coolest."


	3. 96 Tears

"Micky," said Davy, poking his head into the upstairs bedroom, "do you happen to know where Peter and Mike have gotten to?" Davy had just returned from the beach half an hour earlier; he was surprised to hear music coming from upstairs, since he'd assumed he was alone in the house.

Micky was listening to the radio and putting away a bag of clean laundry. "We dropped Peter off at the library, so I assume he's still there. After we got back from the Laundromat, Mike took off again without telling me where he was going. He just said he'd be back in about an hour or so."

"Oh," Davy responded, "I must have been in the bath when you came in."

Micky finished up his laundry; Davy crossed over to the table where the small radio sat, turning the volume up a bit. "96 Tears" had just come on. Davy bobbed his head in time to the music. "I really dig this song, man."

Micky joined Davy in making head motions. "Yeah, it has a good beat and you can dance to it," he quipped. This, of course, seemed to Davy an invitation to get down and funky; he immediately launched into an oddball, shuffling, semi-frug that ha managed to not only pull off, but make look really clever. Micky got into the spirit of things and began dancing with tremendous energy. After a few seconds, they began dancing together in a bouncy, shimmying twist that would have astounded any casual observer. They kept moving closer and closer into each others' personal space with nary a glance or expression to suggest that this was weird.

In his fervor to dance his little heart out, Micky wound up tripping over a stray shoe, and took Davy down with him. Thus they were tangled up together on the floor in a breathless heap. The energy between the two of them was exciting and slightly intoxicating.

Their lips met, and it was electric for both of them. With wary glances at each other, they kissed again with more fervor. Each found the sensation to be novel and interesting.

They separated and looked at each other pretty straightforwardly.

"Hmm," said Micky.

Davy nodded. "Yeah." He picked himself up off the floor, and then helped Micky to his feet


	4. How the Other Half Lives

Micky found Peter on the back deck of the house, sitting serenely and watching the sun set on MalibuBeach. The cool breeze was refreshing, and Micky was glad to join the bassist in his activity of choice.

However, after a few minutes, Micky felt that he needed to have this conversation with his friend, now, while they had the chance.

"So, Pete, we've got a couple of big gigs lined up in San Francisco."

"I know. I can't wait! It's gonna be so much fun! Are we gonna try to drive down Lombard Street?"

Micky chuckled. "Yeah, sure. Hey, listen, um, you know the club we're gonna be playing?" Peter nodded to indicate that he was listening. Micky wasn't keen on having this conversation, but he felt that Peter should know what they were getting into. Thus, he pressed on.

"Well, Pete, they, um… well, it's a lot different from what we're used to."

"The people don't go to dance, to listen to music, and to hang out with each other?" Peter was genuinely confused by this conversation, as opposed to his usual polite, obtuse wisecracking.

Micky sighed, "No, they do all that stuff. You're just gonna notice that, um, there won't be many girls. Heck, there may not be any girls at all." Micky prayed that Peter would get his drift.

"Oh," Peter responded, completely unfazed. "Well, that explains a lot."

"Like what?"

"Well, something about this seems to have been bothering Mike a bit about this whole thing. Not that I blame him, of course- his upbringing was a bit conservative, I'm sure."

Micky, taken aback by the complexity of Peter's observations, asked, "What about you? Does it bother you?"

Peter chuckled. "Me? No. What about you?"

It was Micky's turn to chuckle. "Why should it? They're not doing anything to hurt anybody."

They sat in silence for a moment. Peter turned to Micky a bit hesitantly.

"Have you ever wondered, um, what it's like? You know, to kiss another guy?" He toyed with the hem of his shirt as he spoke.

Micky felt like he had been shot through with a bolt of lightening. Why on earth was Peter asking him that? Did he suspect that he'd been a little on the experimental side during his year at college? Then he calmed down. After all, this was Peter, who didn't judge people for any reason whatsoever.

"It's not that much different from kissing a girl, really," he confided.

Peter's response was remarkably noncommittal. "Oh," was all he said. He put his arm around Micky's shoulders in a gesture that was initially taken as a friendly bit of comfort. He was, therefore, stunned to find Peter coming in for what was unmistakably a kiss.

His first impulse was to panic, but he found himself intrigued by Peter's amazingly good technical skill. His curiosity piqued, Micky relaxed and returned the kiss with vigor.

They broke apart gently.

"You're right," Peter remarked, "it's not that much different." He paused momentarily. "You really need to shave, though. Ouch."

Micky leaned against the side of the house, laughing until he could barely breathe.


	5. Who Comforts the Comforter?

Mike was obviously completely exhausted; being the de facto leader/accountant/manager/parent for their group was exhausting work. It seemed that he had to do everything from paying the bills to arguing with the landlord to negotiating salaries to boosting morale over a broken heart or a lost gig. Some days, it just seemed like more than he could handle, it really did.

Today, for instance, had been a complete disaster. It was like pulling teeth to get Babbitt in to look at anything that needed repair, and the roof still leaked in places as a result. He'd spent the better part of the day attempting to negotiate the repairs that needed to be done that they couldn't take care of themselves. It had finally happened, but not before Mike's stomach had tied itself in knots first.

As if that weren't enough, the manager of the club they were set to play at over the weekend was trying to change the terms of their employment, despite the fact that they'd signed a contract. The guy had underestimated Mike's ability to understand Legalese, though; this resulted in a rather prickly battle between them.

To top it all off, Davy had somehow managed to fall into a patch of poison ivy, and was thus covered in a horribly uncomfortable rash. This made him completely cranky, and Mike had almost broken the bottle of calamine lotion on his head.

Peter had taken over the task of nursing Davy. When his charge was totally covered in calamine and safely asleep, he left their room to find Mike fast asleep at the kitchen table.

Peter gently nudged Mike. "Hey. Come on, we need to get you upstairs." Mike's eyes snapped open as he was hauled to his feet by the somewhat shorter man. He felt himself being gently propelled upstairs and deposited on his bed.

Peter took Mike's boots off, and then covered him with the blanket. He sat by Mike's side while he smoothed the blanket over him.

Mike had no idea what to make of this. He wasn't used to being taken care of like this, and he was too tired to resist.

Peter then wrapped his arms around Mike, who attempted to push him off.

"Shhh," Peter said. "It's okay. Today's been crazy. Sleep now, you'll feel better in the morning." Mike let Peter hold him; it was achingly sweet of him. He wanted to cry for reasons he didn't understand.

Peter kissed his forehead, and Mike held on to him as he did so. Even in the dim light, he could still see Peter's sweet face looking down on him gently.

Peter kissed Mike again, this time full on the mouth. Mike didn't struggle this time, but gently reciprocated. He felt a warmth wash over him, and sleep threatened to overtake him right then and there.

Peter smoothed the blanket over Mike again.

"Go to sleep now, okay?" was the last thing Mike heard before drifting off to a well-earned slumber.


	6. Enlighten Me

It was fairly early in the morning. Davy had been up for a while, and had his cup of coffee and the opportunity to freshen up a bit. He returned to his room to see about waking Peter, and found that it wasn't necessary.

Peter sat on his bed in the lotus position, eyes closed, breathing slowly. Davy didn't pretend to understand transcendental meditation, but he respected Peter's practice of it. He made his way silently across the room to retrieve his watch from the nightstand.

"Hi, David," Peter practically whispered.

Davy winced, feeling badly about having interrupted Peter. "Sorry, mate, just getting me watch; then I'll be out of your hair."

"No, no, it's okay, really." He patted the bed in an invitation for Davy to join him. Davy did so, although not in full lotus position.

"So, what, you gonna teach me to meditate or something?" Davy quipped.

Peter smiled a bit ruefully at his friend. "It wouldn't hurt you to try it." Davy shrugged his consent; which made Peter smile even more.

"All right, I'm sitting. Now what?"

Peter took Davy's hands into his own. "Clear your mind of all though. Just let it all go." The sound of Peter's voice quietly giving these instructions was soothing, and Davy concentrated on that. He found that banishing all thought was easier than he'd imagined.

"Try to concentrate on your breathing. Breathe in, and then breathe out. Keep doing this slowly, and concentrate on it."

They did this for an indeterminate length of time, and Davy had to admit that he was really getting into it. He did feel a sense of calm, and enjoyed not having a million things going on in his head.

Davy eventually felt himself swaying from side to side just a little. He opened one eye just a bit and saw that Peter was doing the same. Quietly amused, he closed his eye again and leaned forward until his face was mere inches from Peter's. He opened his eyes and wrapped his arms around his friend's neck.

Peter opened his eyes at this, but made no move to dislodge Davy. They sat like that for a moment, looking into each others' eyes affectionately. Right then, it felt like there was nobody else in the world but themselves. It was a feeling that often came about when the two of them spent time together, alone.

Peter should have been surprised to find Davy's lips gently pressed to his, but all he could think of was the sweetness of the moment that was happening, and the softness of the lips that he was kissing.

Afterward, they leaned their foreheads together and sighed. They weren't quite ready to burst their protective bubble and face the world just yet, so they stayed sitting on the bed leaning into each other for as long as possible.


End file.
